


Rinse and Repeat

by NuclearNik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik
Summary: Without her, he is unmoored.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 78
Collections: Into the New Millennium





	Rinse and Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Into_the_New_Millennium](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Into_the_New_Millennium) collection. 



> Written for Into the New Millennium Flash Fiction Competition hosted in Dumbledore’s Armada. Winner of Perfect Note Admin's Pick Award.
> 
> Song title: Almost Lover  
> Artist: A Fine Frenzy  
> Year: 2007  
> Lyric inspiration: I cannot wake up in the morning without you on my mind

Draco Malfoy has never been a man with a proclivity towards seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses. He is intimately familiar with the biting reality of life and its cold, hard truths.

But then _she_ swirls back into his life like a cool breeze, shining a bright light on all the dark, hidden corners of his soul.

Hermione Granger is his for what feels like the space between moments, there and gone. The day she finally leaves, he wonders if it was all just a vivid daydream, because when he uses his fingers to count his flaws, he runs out of fingers, and who would ever want to be tied to a person so broken?

When he closes his eyes, he can almost see her in the shower, singing off-key to some insipid pop song, or out in the greenhouses, body swaying as she plants rows of beans and something with teeth that likes to dine on unsuspecting fingers.

She is everywhere in his house now, the ghost of her presence the only real thing he has left. As he stands in the garden, letting the rain pelt him until he feels as numb on the outside as he does on the inside, he wishes he could forget, just exorcise the spectre of her, once and for all. 

The universe won’t let him forget, though. She has been gone for weeks, but he still finds loose strands of her hair stuck to his shirts. Her favourite mug sits exactly where she left it because he hasn't been able to bring himself to erase that last connection, despite how much it hurts to look at.

The day he finally goes through what is left of her belongings, he ends up spending longer than he cares to admit stuffing her clothes into a box, occasionally bringing a shirt to his face and breathing in the scent of her shampoo that lingers there like the fucking sap he’s become.

And then he starts a bonfire outside and lights it all up, watching the final threads between them go up in smoke and knocking back whatever bottle of liquor he finds in the cabinets.

It’s easier when he’s drunk. The pain is dulled a bit, just enough to bring him a small modicum of relief. When he’s drunk, the gaping wound in his chest aches a little less, and he can almost stop hating himself for letting her go.

 _Almost_.

It’s pathetic, his behaviour. He recognises that. He should move on, grow up. This is what he wanted. He's poison, no good for her, and he should be content in the knowledge that he managed to convince her of that absolute truth. It was not easy, and he wonders now, weeks later, if it was the right thing.

That is all he wants. To do the right thing by her, and if that means causing her temporary heartache in order to save her from a lifetime of pain, so be it.

Still, no matter how many times he tells himself that, all he can see, taste, _feel_ is her. His memories are soaked in her—his hands clutching her hips and the ends of her hair brushing his chest as she moves above him in the silver splash of moonlight coming in through the curtains, or the endearing way she unconsciously cuddles closer to him in the early mornings, seeking his body heat.

So he remembers, and he drinks.

Rinse and repeat.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank you's to my beautiful beta [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie)


End file.
